Sunday, October 25, 2009

Dragan Stojkovic Scores the Greatest Goal of All Time...in His Suit

The greatest goal the world has ever seen was scored this week by Grampus 8 manager Dragan Stoijkovic. In an amazing effort from his own technical area, he volleyed the ball into the net.

Grampus 8 Manager and Yugoslavian legend Dragan Stoijkovic is world renowned for his silken skills as a footballer. But if anything, those skills have improved...as a manager.

This week, Nagoya Grampus 8 were playing in a J-League match. The game in itself was nothing special...until Stojkovic popped up with a piece of skill that was unbelievable, even more so when you consider he is the manager.

With a player receiving attention in the penalty box, a Grampus player cleared the ball off the pitch into the technical area.

In seeing what the goalkeeper was attempting and with the game already stopped, Stojkovic read the direction of the ball beautifully and jogged off his bench to catch the ball on a full volley and hammer the ball into the net from fully 50 yards!

It is easily the greatest goal scored in the J-League this season, or any other season for that matter.

And the very fact that Stojkovic was dressed in a suit, wearing patent leather shoes, only makes it better!

Unfortunately, the 44-year-old was sent off for his indiscretion...leaving you to wonder if referees the world over are cloned from the same sense of humorless drone.

Despite that, Stojkovic is almost certain to win the goal of the season award, something he never won in his 20-year career. And he was some player.

Premier League Report

Choose Football. Choose a team. Choose a vocation. Choose a family. Choose a stadium; choose bad catering, no leg room, whingeing glory seekers and cynical die-hards. Choose wing wizardry, midfield dynamos, and twenty a season strikers. Choose fixed interest season ticket repayments. Choose your seat. Choose your friends. Choose over-priced replica kits and matching accessories. Choose a reserve team striker on loan from a range of bigger clubs. Choose going out on the lash after the game and wondering who the hell you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing grand slam Sundays, stuffing junk food into your mouth. Choose going home and away ‘til the end of it all, pishing your last on a miserable terrace, nothing more than an embarrassment to the cooler, sharper brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose Football.